Unloved
by DeathEaterInVegas
Summary: Draco decides to ditch a lesson. So does Harry. Both for completely different reasons. When Draco spots Harry walking alone down a corridor, looking downcast, he decides to follow him. Little does he know that the boy who lived has walked off to end it all. 5th year. Eventual slash. Depression. Attempted suicide. Self harm. Mention of abuse.
1. Overdue

Summary: Draco decides to ditch a lesson. So does Harry. Both for completely different reasons. When Draco spots him walking alone down a corridor, looking downcast, he decides to follow him. Little does he know that the boy who lived has walked off to end it all. 5th year. Eventual slash.

WARNINGS: Extreme angst, self harm, suicide attempt, depression, mentions of abuse, more unpleasant topics.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

For the last couple of weeks Harry had been planning it. He planned it so meticulously, so precisely that he hadn't thought about what would happen if he _didn't_ actually go through with it. But then he chickened out. He had chickened out at the last minute. He had still been holding on to the hope that maybe he'd be okay. Maybe someone would help him. Maybe this feeling was just temporary.

But today he woke up and he knew what he had to do. This couldn't go on any longer, and he would finally end it all.

He attended breakfast with Ron and Hermione, trying to act normally. He tried to laugh, tried to smile. He wanted their last memories of him to be fairly happy ones. But they weren't buying it.

"Harry?" Hermione asked gently from across the table, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her, really looked at her for a moment. He didn't try to smile, didn't try to look happy, didn't mask his emotions. He almost wanted her to realise what was going on, wanted her to stop him. It was the last cry for help.

"Oh, Harry," she said quietly with a sad smile. "Is it about Cedric?"

_They don't understand. They'll never understand._

Ron clapped him hard on the back. "He's fine, 'Mione. Give him a break!"

Harry attempted a laugh, but it sounded fake and forced.

Hermione tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear, looking down. "As long as you're sure."

Harry smiled at her, knowing that one more lie wouldn't hurt. He'd been lying to them for so long now that it had become almost second nature to him. "I really am fine. I'm still half asleep."

He tried to eat a little more, for appearances sake more than anything else. But he didn't need food. There was no point in eating now.

"Guys," he said, voice sounding more detached, more _dead_ than he had hoped it would. "I'm going to go have a walk before first lesson. I just... need some time to think."

Hermione frowned at him. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Nah," he said, trying to smile. He tried so hard to smile. "It's fine. I'll meet you two in potions."

Then he left the hall, knowing he would never be in here again. He didn't take any time to look back and marvel at the beauty of the building, didn't take a moment to look back at his friends, to properly say goodbye. He just walked.

It was easier this way.

* * *

Draco had decided he was going to skip potions. He had forgotten to do the homework, and knew that his brief trip to the hospital wing during breakfast would serve as an adequate alibi.

The corridors were eerily empty, and Draco wondered how long it would take for people to notice his absence. Hopefully Snape would be understanding enough.

He turned the corner, and almost laughed at what he saw. Harry Potter was walking in front of him, head down, looking a little lost.

Draco smirked, feeling that his day was about to get a lot better, especially if he could antagonise Potter. He wondered what to do. Following him could be interesting, as it looked like Potter was 'up to something', as Professor Snape so frequently put it.

Draco crept behind him, trying to keep as hidden as possible, trying not to be noticed. Then, rather unexpectedly, Potter turned into the girl's toilets.

Draco just about held back a snigger, wondering whether he really should be following him in there. It seemed plausible that he could be in there with a girl. Or a guy. Whatever floated his boat.

After a couple of minutes standing in the corridor he came to the conclusion that he would casually walk in and see what Potter was up to. If it was anything suspicious he could get him in trouble - or even better, blackmail him. If it was anything involving another student he would just laugh and laugh and laugh, and then possibly hex them both and run off.

Yes, Potter was royally screwed.

* * *

It had been an hour since he last saw Ron and Hermione, and the first lesson had started about half an hour ago.

Harry walked, not knowing exactly where his legs were taking him. He was carrying his bag, and inside his bag was only his wand and a rusted old knife. Rusted from his own blood.

He wanted to do it soon. He wanted to get it over with. Fairly quick but not painless. No, he didn't want to go painlessly. That wasn't fair. He still needed to suffer for his cowardliness. He didn't want to die the easy way.

There was still something in his mind telling him he was being stupid, being thoughtless. But he didn't care. He couldn't cope with it anymore. The pressure, the responsibility, the pain of feeling unloved.

_I give up._

He walked into moaning Myrtle's bathroom, feeling hopelessly alone. This is what he had been reduced to, a sobbing suicidal teenager. He couldn't live like this, couldn't live when he felt numb and dead and undeserving of the life he wanted.

_I can't go on._

He collapsed on the floor, tears starting to fall. He thought of Sirius. He knew Sirius would be upset, would be angry, that he would probably blame himself. And then there was Remus, who had come so close a couple of months ago to discovering how Harry felt.

Ron and Hermione. He would miss them. He would miss them so much. But this would be better for them all in the long run. He knew it would.

Then his mind turned to why he was doing this. So many things had just piled up, getting the better of him. Cedric's death, exams, expectations from his teachers, trying to be a good friend, the Dursleys.

The abuse from the Dursleys had gotten too much for him to cope with - both physical and emotional. He still had the scars on his back from where his uncle had beaten him, still had nightmares about what his uncle did to him.

He sat, leaning against the wall, his bag by his side. He was crying, and thought about how ridiculous that was.

Crying? _Really_? He was pathetic.

He opened the bag, pulling out the dagger, and then his wand. He rolled up his sleeves, staring down at his already horribly scarred arms.

His hands shook, making it almost impossible to dig the dagger into his arm hard enough. But he managed it.

The pain he felt now was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside everyday.

Blood. Blood everywhere. It dripped down his arm, falling in a small puddle beside him. It was comforting. It would be over soon.

Then he heard a muffled whimper, a gasp of surprise, and looked up into shocked grey eyes. The boy looked confused, unsure of what he was seeing. Harry squinted up at him, trying to get his fogged mind to figure out who that was.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, almost choking on his own voice.

Harry was waiting for the taunt, the smirk, and was almost _looking forward_ to it this time.

Draco stumbled back, eyes wide. "Potter?" he asked uncertainly.

Harry sat up straighter, trying to concentrate on the pain that darted up his arm. "Hi," he said, voice weak. Was that all he could really think of saying?

_No, not him. Anyone but him._

Draco ran a hand through his hair, eyes still wide with shock, lip trembling slightly. "Wh-what are you ... what are you doing?"

Harry didn't know what to say. Panic was suffocating him. "Nothing. I'm fine. Fine."

Draco's face paled. "Oh Merlin," he said quietly, realisation dawning. "God, no. You can't have . . . Potter, you did this to yourself."

Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to pull down his sleeve over the gash in his arm. But Draco had already seen and there was no hiding it now.

"I'm going to get a Professor," Draco said quietly. He started to back away, looking incredibly unsure of himself.

"No," Harry said, grabbing his wand from the floor. "No, Malfoy please. Please. Don't get anyone. I'm fine."

Draco laughed harshly, almost hysterically. "Really, Potter? Do you think I'm stupid?"

Harry shook his head, starting to feel dizzy. "You're . . . not stupid."

Draco's eyebrows raised and his expression darkened. "Potter, you sound drunk. I'm getting somebody. You've lost too much blood."

Harry let out a sob. "Just let me die," he begged, voice verging on desperation. "Please just . . . let me die."

Draco's eyes softened and walked towards Harry, bending down and placing a surprisingly comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry whimpered quietly at the touch, closing his eyes, wanting to slip away into the darkenss.

"I'm not letting you die," Draco said, voice hoarse. "I'm not going to do that."

Harry opened his eyes, silently pleading with Draco.

Couldn't he see that Harry wanted this? That he wanted to die?

He stared into soft grey eyes, not knowing what to say.

Draco leant over Harry, picking up the dagger. "I'm taking this," explained quietly.

Harry raised his wand, hand shaking, and pointed it at Draco.

"Don't," said Harry. "Just leave it. Go. Pretend . . . Pretend you never saw me."

Draco knocked the wand out of Harry's hands easily and it rolled across the floor.

"Stay here," he said, standing. "You'll be okay. Just ... stay here. I'll be back."

"No," Harry said. He hated begging. "No, please stay. Don't leave me. Please."

Draco turned back to face him, eyes glistening with tears. No, they couldn't have been tears. "Harry, I've got to go. I'm getting you help."

"Please don't . . . Don't go," he said quietly. "Please. . . Stay. With me. Please."

Draco looked torn, but shook his head. "I've got to get you help. You're not going to die on me, Potter. Just hold on."

Then he left, and Harry was left alone. The bathroom was quiet and he wasn't bleeding fast enough.

He crawled for his wand, hoping to get to it before Draco came back with a teacher. But he soon collapsed on the floor, exhausted and feeling dizzy from loss of blood.

He had hoped that Draco would have stayed with him. But now Harry knew he would die just as he lived: unloved and alone.

The minutes seemed to last hours and hours, and he willed himself to die, willed his body to give up fighting.

He finally closed his eyes, drifting off into what he hoped would be death.

He heard, absently, Draco screaming his name. But not even that would wake him.

He hoped this was the end.

* * *

A/N: Tell me what you think! I like getting constructive criticism; it really helps me with my writing :)

I have concluded that I like writing angst far too much XD


	2. Unintended

Harry awoke to what could only be described as agonizing pain, pain that seemed to be concentrated in his left arm. He fluttered open his eyes, trying to sit up with limited success. He flopped back down again and sighed in defeat.

He was in the hospital wing, he could see that much. The Christmas decorations had just gone up, but the place looked anything but jolly. The horrible smell of potions and cleanliness burned up his nose, making him want to cough and throw up at the same time.

He felt horribly cold, although he was drenched in sweat. And he felt dazed, as if he'd just been hit in the head with a bludger. The world was unbelievably clear, the colours too vivid to be real - but knew that now, he wasn't dreaming.

"Madame Pomfrey," a familiar voice said from beside him. Harry couldn't place it. "He's awake."

"Okay, dear," she said. "I won't be a minute."

Harry turned his head. White-blonde hair was the first thing he noticed, then the icy blue eyes. The next thing he noticed was the Slytherin robes.

". . .M-Malfoy?"

_What the hell is he doing here?_

Harry blinked.

_More importantly, what the hell am _I_ doing here?_

He tried to think back. Inside, he knew _exactly_ what had happened, but was desperately trying to come up with an alternative - anything else that could explain why he was here, why his arm was searing with pain, why he felt dizzy and weak.

Draco blinked a couple of times, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "H-how are you feeling?"

Harry stared. "Wh-what happened? I can't . . ."

Before Draco could answer, Madam Pomfrey walked into the room, carrying numerous vials of potions. She smiled down sadly at Harry.

"Oh Harry, dear," she said, both concern and apprehension clear in her voice. "How are you feeling?"

That answered Harry's question about what had happened. The look in her eyes said it all.

Memories were starting to make their way back to him, horribly painful memories.

He gulped, trying to keep his expression blank. "I'm f-fine."

She gave him a look. "I've got some pain relieving potions here for you to take. You've been sleeping for about half an hour, now. But I've healed most of the scars on your arm and replenished your blood."

Then she turned to Draco.

"Mr Malfoy," she said. "You may go back to your classes now, if you wish."

Harry didn't turn to look at Draco again, feeling humiliated. He knew he would never hear the end of this from him. The gossip would spread around the school like wildfire. He could imagine it already: _Harry Potter, too weak to even commit suicide properly. A coward for attempting to kill himself, a coward for failing._

"Do you mind if I stay here a little longer?" Draco asked weakly.

"It's no problem, dear," she said. "I will inform Professor Snape of your absence. Now, Harry, I want you to -"

Before she could finish the infirmary doors burst open. Remus and Professor McGonagall came running in, followed by a black dog - Sirius. They looked flustered, faces red as if they'd run all the way here.

Harry felt sick. He didn't want to see them.

Remus ran a hand through his hair, and Harry could tell he was panicked. That made him feel even more guilty.

"Is he alright?" Remus said, sounding desperate. Then his eyes rested on Harry, who was lying down on the bed and staring straight at him. "H-Harry?"

Padfoot walked slowly behind Remus and McGonagall, head down, ears back, tail between his legs.

"Snuffles," Harry said weakly, at which the dog's head snapped up in recognition.

Padfoot stopped dead in his tracks, and stared at Harry for a moment, his large eyes unwavering. He then tilted his head back and howled. It was a broken, painful howl that made Remus pinch the bridge of his nose and McGonagall put a hand to her mouth.

Harry knew how disappointed Sirius was with him, and felt guilt surge through him again.

"It's . . . all right . . . Snuffles," Harry said.

Padfoot stopped howling, tilted his head as if to say _"Don't be so stupid. Of course it's not,"_ and then trotted up to Harry's bedside. He licked Harry's hand gently before letting out a heartbreaking whine.

"I'm okay," Harry said. "Snuffles, it's okay. I'm okay."

Padfoot growled quietly, but licked Harry's hand again.

"No need to be worried about me," he said, trying to make his voice sound light - and failing miserably.

Padfoot growled even more loudly this time, before nuzzling his head into Harry's hand.

Harry sighed, wondering what he would do now. He knew he still didn't want to live, but with Remus and Sirius here he felt guilty for thinking like that.

"Harry," Remus said quietly.

Harry looked up into his eyes. "R-Remus," he said unsure of what else he could say. "Hi."

Remus tried to smile. "I didn't think you'd be awake by now."

Harry said the first thing that popped into his mind. "I didn't think I'd still be alive by now."

_Shit. Didn't meant to say that._

Harry mentally kicked himself and looked away sheepishly. "Sorry."

Padfoot growled at him again, but that was the only reaction he got from any of them.

Harry cast a glance to his side, wondering what the blonde haired Slytherin would make of this, but was surprised to find the seat empty, and Draco gone.

"Where did Malfoy go?" he asked.

Nobody said anything.

"You know, Draco Malfoy? Did you see him go?"

Again, there was silence.

_Damn it. What do I do?!_

Before he could decide to do anything, the infirmary doors burst open again, and in came Ron and Hermioine.

Harry stared in shock.

No, not them. _Anybody_ but them.

"You two," Professor McGonagall said harshly, although her voice shook slightly. "Out. Now."

Hermione leant to one side, trying to look around the group to spot Harry. "But we have to see -"

"No, Miss Granger. I want you and Mr Weasley out of here this instant. You have lessons to be attending."

Ron decided to pipe up. "But that git _Malfoy_ was -"

"No 'buts'," Professor Mcgonagall said. "Go to your next lessons. _Now_. Or do you want me to take house points away? You can see Mr Potter another time."

"But -"

"_Go_."

* * *

Draco had left when he was sure that nobody would notice him leaving, and ask him why he was even here in the first place. He didn't want to think about that again. The blood. So much blood.

Even without the threat of talking about what had happened, Draco couldn't have stayed in the hospital wing any longer - he didn't feel like he belonged in there with the rest of them. He felt like an intruder, like he was just eavesdropping on their conversation.

So he had just left quietly, hoping nobody would notice his absence - not even Harry.

_Damn you, Potter_, he thought. _Damn you and your stupid fucked up suicidal thoughts. Damn you for making me care so bloody much._

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. He had seen Harry in a new light. He was even starting to feel sorry for him. For Potter. The scrawny brat, his arch-enemy - he was feeling _sorry_ for him.

No, it wasn't pity. It definitely wasn't pity. No, Draco Malfoy felt _worried_.

But the thing was, he had never meant to find Harry like that. He had never meant to be in a situation where he'd have to save the life of the boy-who-lived. It was an accident. Sure he had purposely followed Potter, purposely gone after him. But what he had found was not what he had expected - it was a coincidence that Draco had found him.

Fate had supposedly brought them together, and now Draco had unintentionally become the reason that Harry Potter was still breathing. And if truth be told, he wanted to become the reason that Potter would continue to live.

He ran a hand through his hair again.

_Stop being so selfish. Always wanting all the glory._

He sighed.

He had told Granger and Weasley where Harry was, out of courtesy more than anything else. But he also thought that maybe Harry would need his friends around him at such a difficult time. He would want company.

_Just not my company._

Draco grew confused at the jealous thoughts eating away at him. Jealous of the mudblood and that freckly blood-traitor? Surely not.

But it was undeniably true. He wanted to be the one who was there for Harry. He wanted to be the one Harry could trust, who Harry could turn to when things got tough. He wanted to be a good friend to him, someone Harry would be_ proud_ to call his friend.

_Yet I've spent the last five years annoying the hell out of him. What a way to go about it._

He continued walking down the now deserted corridors. He couldn't go back to classes in this state. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he was going to do something about Harry Potter, whether he liked it or not.

Harry was ill - even Draco knew that. A small part of him wanted to help _fix_ Harry, a small part of him wanted to help make him better again.

"Draco," a voice called from down the corridor. "Draco, wait!"

Draco turned, surprised at the man who was running after him. "Professor Lupin?"

The ex-Professor nodded, breathing heavily. "I need to ask you something."

"Sure," he said, feeling decisively _unsure_. "Go ahead."

"I need to talk to you about Harry - well, it's more of a request, really."

He nodded, saying the only thing he could think of saying. "Oh. Right. Go ahead."

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like you to look out for Harry for me."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Look out for Harry?" he mimicked.

Lupin sighed. "I know it sounds like an odd request but . . . just hear me out."

Curiosity and hope were the only two emotions Draco felt at that moment in time. "I'm listening."

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for the support, guys! I really appreciate all of the reviews, follows and favourites. I love hearing what you think - so if you have any suggestions or comments, then please tell me :)

This chapter is a bit of a filler (as you can probably tell) but don't worry - things are going to pick up soon!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.


	3. In debt

Harry had woken up in the hospital wing with Padfoot at the foot of his bed and Remus snoring lightly from a chair close by. It was still pretty dark in the room, mainly because the curtains were half closed, but also because of the fact that winter nights were awfully long.

Harry say up, trying to make as little noise as possible. He grabbed his glasses of the side table and looked around the room for a clock.

_6:45 ... ish. Probably closer to 6:50._

Harry sighed, lying back down onto the bed again. The sheets were stiff and uncomfortable. They felt horribly plain compared to his sheets in his bed in Gryffindor. He felt a sudden sense of guilt and regret over what he had done. He had caused too much trouble over it; he honestly just wished that he had done something that had less of a chance of going wrong.

He placed his head in his hands, wondering how to play out the rest of the day. He knew that he'd be asked some awkward question, but wasn't sure whether he wanted to answer them truthfully or not. The thing he wanted most was for everyone to give him some space, to stop going on and on about this and let him deal with things on his own. The only way for that to happen would be for him to pretend that everything was okay, that he had just made one stupid, reckless mistake - and that he'd never even think of doing it again.

Yes, he would just pretend that the experience shocked him into realising that his life was worth living.

Easy.

* * *

After a rushed breakfast in the hospital wing - which Harry couldn't manage to keep down for long - he was escorted to the headmaster's office, accompanied by Remus, Sirius and McGonagall. They all seemed nervous. They also seemed very reluctant to tell him anything, which was rather annoying.

When they entered the office, Dumbledore was still busy. So they sat down, with Sirius, Remus and McGonagall acting overbearingly protective towards Harry. It was humiliating how often one of them would ask whether he was okay. After a while he told them to knock it off, although he wasn't sure whether the message exactly sunk in.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Sirius asked again gently, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry shrugged off the gesture. "Yes, Sirius. I'm fine, okay? You don't need to keep worrying about me," he snapped, feeling completely fed up of this.

Sirius looked ready to come back with something profound, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore walked in with an expression that made Sirius clamp shut his mouth.

Dumbledore glanced at Remus, McGonagall and Sirius, not once looking at Harry. Harry felt even more ashamed - it was almost too much to take that Dumbledore was disappointed with him, too.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said gravely, sitting down, "that we've encountered a problem."

Sirius scoffed from beside Harry. "Problem? With what?"

Dumbledore looked down. "It seems that Mr Malfoy's act of heroics has resulted in some ... unwanted _side effects_."

Harry looked away, his stomach churning with a mixture of embarrassment and shame over what had happened.

_Why didn't I just do it properly? Why didn't I use something foolproof? I could have jumped from the astronomy tower. I could have poisoned myself. Nobody would have been able to save me then..._

_Next time..._

"And those side effects are?" Sirius asked calmly.

Harry could tell that inside Sirius was fuming - and Harry knew that he was at least indirectly the cause of that. Sirius was upset and blamed himself, despite Harry's constant reassurances. And when Sirius was upset, he often also became angry.

Dumbledore scratched his forehead, looking worn out. "I can't say for sure whether this is the case, but -"

"-but what?" Sirius asked. "Spit it _out_! This is my godson we're talking about, here. You've made us wait all bloody morning, and now you won't even tell us what's going on."

Dumbledore nodded."I understand, Sirius, but you have to remember that I cannot be certain that -"

Sirius placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. He was gripping on so hard that his nails were digging into his skin. "Just say it!"

There were a good few seconds of silence.

Harry was only mildly curious. Whatever it was, he was sure that it couldn't have been too bad.

Remus shuffled in his seat.

Dumbledore stared at Sirius. "It seems like by saving Harry's life, Mr Malfoy unintentionally -"

"- created a life debt," Remus finished. Then he frowned. "Oh Merlin."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. A life debt."

_Oh wow,_ Harry thought. _How anticlimactic._

Everyone was completely silent as this information sunk in. Well, everyone apart from Sirius. He glared at Dumbledore, eyes wild with anger.

"So Harry now owes that _monster_ a life debt?"

Harry sighed. _Maybe not as anticlimactic as I thought._

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, alarmed at the sudden outburst. "Calm down just a moment. Let me -"

"He's the son of a Death Eater! He's the nephew of Bellatrix Le-_bloody_-strange, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry was still trying to take it in. He was now in debt to Draco Malfoy, of all people. And it was a _life_ _debt, _of all things. He had some idea of what that meant, but wasn't completely sure what owing somebody a life debt actually entailed. It seemed to be a big deal, though, but Harry couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than indifference towards what was happening.

"Calm down, Padfoot," Remus said. "You've seen the boy. Draco isn't as bad as his father."

Sirius frowned. "_Yet_. He's not as bad as him _yet_, Moony."

"You can't make assumptions like that. What about _you_? Practically your whole family were Death Eaters, and -"

"That's not the same, and you know it," Sirius said.

"But he did help Harry," Remus pointed out softly. "That's got to count for something. If he wanted to, he could have easily left."

"Moony, you don't _get it_. Draco Malfoy is just the same as -"

"He has compassion," Remus said firmly. "He has more compassion than you ever had, certainly."

Sirius crossed his arms, now officially brooding. "You don't know anything about this, Remus."

"But Albus," McGonagall said quietly, trying to bring the conversation back to what was most important. "Mr Malfoy and Harry have been … _rivals_ since their very first year. They hated each other from almost the first day they met. Surely being in debt to somebody like that is -"

"I don't hate him," Harry said suddenly. "I mean, he can be a git sometimes, but I don't hate him."

McGonagall chuckled lightly, and then suddenly stopped, as if remembering exactly where she was and what was happening.

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, you have to understand what kind of magic we're dealing with here. If you're not careful, you could end up saving Draco's life, and unintentionally killing yourself in the process."

_Good_, Harry thought. _That would be a nice heroic way to go._

"Or," he said, seeming to catch on quickly to Harry's thoughts. "As a result of saving Draco's life, you could end up putting innocent people in danger."

"Why isn't Draco 'innocent'?" Harry asked, appalled. "Sure, he doesn't have the best family in the world, but that doesn't make him -"

"You are missing my point, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Draco Malfoy is almost undoubtedly on the path to becoming a Death Eater - whether he wants to become one or not. That means that you are now - right this second - effectively in debt to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Harry, do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? Do you understand how important this is?"

Harry could only nod dumbly.

"But he's not a bad kid," Remus said, exasperated. "If we gave him a chance, if we encouraged him to -"

"I'm sorry, Remus," Dumbledore said. "But I think Mr Malfoy is already too far gone."

* * *

Harry was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing later that day, on one condition - that Sirius (as Padfoot) stayed with him. So Harry now walked down the corridors with Padfoot trotting along merrily behind him. They somehow managed to avoid Umbridge and Filch, who would have undoubtedly questioned as to why Harry was walking around the castle with a giant dog that looked suspiciously like the Grim.

The corridors were practically deserted, and those few who were walking around didn't pay much attention to Harry and his 'dog'.

As Harry and Padfoot neared the Gryffindor Tower, Padfoot was becoming more and more excited. His tail was wagging like crazy and he was bounding around the place like a puppy.

"Snuffles," Harry warned, worried that he'd attract some unwanted attention. "Calm down."

Padfoot barked happily and then pounced around the corner. Harry sighed, though he was smiling. It was nice to have Sirius here with him for the last couple of days before the Christmas holidays - even if it meant that he'd have someone constantly watching over him.

Harry heard a very loud bark, followed by a growl.

Then a very familiar voice spoke out - but for a moment Harry was totally confused. He normally only heard that voice saying mean, horrible, twisted things.

This time, the voice sounded pleasantly surprised.

"Hey there, doggy. Don't - hey, I'm not going to hurt you! Shh, it's okay. Don't growl at me. Where's your master?"

It was Draco, and Harry's heart sunk slightly. How would he act now? Would he go back to teasing him again? Or would he just ignore Harry, and let him carry on in peace?

Harry rounded the corner, and chuckled, despite himself, at the sight in front of him.

Padfoot was lying down on the floor. Draco bent down next to him, rubbing his belly.

"You're such a good dog, aren't you?" he said in a cutesy voice. "Yes you are!"

Padfoot barked, seemingly in agreement with Draco.

_This is who I am now in debt to. I owe him my life, even though I never wanted him to save it in the first place._

Draco chuckled, standing up again. He turned around, meeting Harry's eyes with a smile. Draco smiled, didn't smirk, he actually _smiled_.

"Potter," he said. "You're okay. I was ... worried."

Harry looked down sheepishly and walked towards him and Padfoot, who was still lying down on the floor, expecting Draco to start rubbing his belly again. "Sorry you had to go through that, Malfoy. It couldn't have been ... pleasant."

"It's okay, Potter," Draco said. "As long as you're all right."

Harry wasn't sure whether Draco was being sarcastic or not. He probably was.

Harry looked up, suddenly finding himself closer to Draco than he had expected. Draco smiled, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly more than the other.

Harry stared straight up into silver eyes, eyes that were now staring down at him expectantly.

"Oh," he said, taking half a step back. "I'm fine now. Fine."

Draco's smile dropped. "Potter," he said sharply. "Don't lie."

Harry looked away. "I'm not lying."

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and automatically flinched. Draco immediately drew his hand back, but continued with what he was going to say.

"If you ever want to ... I dunno why you _would_ want to, but if you ever wanted to talk then I guess ... uh ... well, you know. I'm here for you, and all that."

Harry felt something stir inside him. He looked up, trying to smile. "It's okay, Malfot. I'll be okay. But thanks for the, eh, offer."

Draco frowned. "Potter," he said warningly. "I don't believe that for one minute, you know."

Harry laughed harshly, deciding to change tactics. "Well it's none of your business, all right? I can do whatever I want to myself. I would have thought that you would have _wanted_ me to kill myself, if anything."

Draco's eyebrows rose up into his hairline and Padfoot growled at Harry.

"Do you really think that?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

Harry looked away again, embarrassed.

"Because if you do, then you're wrong."

Harry looked up, and Draco placed his hand on his shoulder again. The gesture was oddly comforting, but Harry still stepped away from him, glaring.

"We might not be friends," said Draco, putting his hand back down by his side. "But I do _not_ want you to die."

Then he stepped back, turned, and walked away.

Harry blinked after him, unsure of what to do, exactly. He was unsure of what had even happened just now.

"Wait, Mlfoy!" he finally shouted.

Draco turned back, one eyebrow raised.

Harry gulped. "D-don't ... don't tell anyone what happened, all right?"

Draco smiled at him, then practically burst out laughing - not a reaction that Harry had expected.

"I couldn't," he said, shaking his head through his laughter. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

Then he turned down the corner and was gone.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, confused at the conflicting thoughts running through his mind. He was happy - on some level - that Draco cared, although he was still unsure about the Slytherin's reasons for being so worried. But there was something else that Harry felt - something that he wasn't too sure about.

And it was making him question what he thought he knew about both himself, and Draco Malfoy.

Padfoot barked, and Harry quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind.

For now, he would just concentrate on something else.

* * *

A/N: Wow guys, thanks for all of the reviews (and follows and favs)!

Tell me what you think of things so far. Also, please point out if I've made any mistakes or what have you.

So, how fast do you think Draco and Harry's relationship should develop? I'm unsure whether to draw it out over a few chapters, or have it kick in a bit sooner. What do you think?

To the anonymous reviewers: thank you so much for reviewing! Crystal Bruner and Talltree-san reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate your opinions :)

Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.


	4. Charming the Snake

Draco had tried being sensitive, tried being subtle, tried turning on the normally reliable Malfoy charm, but he was still no closer to finding out the truth about Harry Potter. He was curious, to say the least. He was even a tiny bit _concerned_ about Potter. But he was still no closer to finding out why he had done exactly what he had done.

_Why?_ ... It was a question that he just kept itching to ask. He had been tempted to ask Harry in the corridor, but wasn't too sure how that would have gone down. He had no idea how to approach this; it wasn't like he dealt with this kind of thing often.

Harry had almost refused to acknowledge what had even happened, so asking him _why_ it had happened was completely out of the question for now.

No, he would just have to keep playing this game, would have to continue to think rationally. He wouldn't push Potter for an answer, not yet, at least. No, he would just wait it out.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting a sigh escape his lips. Then he asked himself the question that he had been meaning to ask himself again recently:

_Why do I even care?_

* * *

Harry was finally reunited with Ron, Hermione, Neville and the rest of the Gryffindors, who all seemed over the moon - for some reason - to see him. Ron and Hermione had practically pounced on him as soon as he walked into the common room, and Padfoot - feeling left out - decided to join in by barking at them all and licking Neville's shoe. It was all enough to leave Harry in a very good mood. If his friends had missed him this much after only a few days, maybe there was still some hope for him. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better.

They had asked him questions, though, awkward questions that got him flustered. They knew he was lying - Harry was sure of that. But they had quickly let it drop as soon as they could tell that Harry was starting to get uncomfortable.

They made it no secret, however, that the interrogation would continue another day.

Ron was _very_ happy to have Sirius staying with them. Harry saw Hermione scrunch up her face in annoyance as soon as she had seen Padfoot. She hadn't said anything, though, but Harry could tell she was unsure whether this was a good idea. Hell, even _Harry_ wasn't sure whether this was a good idea or not.

Sirius would find a way to interfere - even though there were only a few days of the holidays left. Harry wouldn't be able to cut himself until Sirius left, and sometimes cutting was the only thing that kept him sane.

And now, lying back in his Gryffindor bed, with Padfoot asleep at his feet, Harry was starting to have worrying thoughts again, thoughts that didn't seem to leave no matter how hard he tried.

His mind wouldn't rest until he acknowledged that despite the joyful face he had put on, he still felt completely empty inside. When it was like this, when he was alone - or near enough alone - in his bed, these thoughts would come rushing back to him. He analysed and re-analysed every conversation he had today, finding holes in almost all of them.

_They don't love me._

_Nobody does._

Sure, they _cared_ about him, but love and care were two completely different words. They cared about him because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, their saviour. He was supposed to kill the Dark Lord, not kill _himself_.

Harry pinched the skin on his wrist, closing his eyes and trying to block out the thoughts.

Without realising it, he finally managed to drift off into a not so peaceful sleep.

* * *

A slap across the face woke Harry up. He was dazed, shaking, and drenched in sweat.

_The snake. Ron's dad._

_Oh god._

_**I** was the snake._

"Harry?"

He couldn't reply, just lay there, staring straight up at the ceiling, mind racing, scenes from the dream playing over and over again in his mind.

_The snake. All of that blood._

He felt numb, and sick, and was absently aware that his scar was burning. But he could hardly feel it.

"Sn-nuffles?" a voice asked quietly - Ron's voice. "Get Professor McGonagall. Harry's ... I think he's still ill."

And just as those words were said, Harry threw up. He was lying down, though, and managed to half choke on his own puke.

Someone was pulling him up and patting him hard on the back. His throat was burnt with what felt like acid, and he then fell back onto the bed with an agonized moan. He slowly closed his eyes, despite the protest from the people standing around him.

Then his eyes snapped open as realisation dawned on him.

"Ron!" he said, voice hoarse. "Ron ... it's you dad ... he's been ... he's been attacked. By a snake!"

"Harry, mate," Ron said gently. "D-don't, uh, worry. Si - uh, Snuffle's is going to get Professor McGonagall for you, now. I think you might still be sick from -"

"No!" said Harry, now desperate. "It was my scar ... Ron ... please ... we've got to do something. Now."

Ron now looked a little more worried, but shook his head. "I don't think ... Look, it was just a dream -"

"No it wasn't," Harry said. "It wasn't a dream!"

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Harry? Are you o-"

"Ron," he said, feeling ready to burst into tears. "Please. _Please_. We have to do something right now!"

The door burst open, and Professor McGonagall came running in.

"Mr Potter," she said. "Mr Potter, what on -"

"It's Arthur Weasley," he said, attempting to stand up. "Please, I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore. I have to -"

"Calm down, Mr Potter," she said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "If this is just a -"

"It's not a dream," he said.

She smiled sadly at him. "Harry, dear, just get back to sleep. I can try to get some dreamless sleep potion if you'd like -"

"It wasn't a dream!" he yelled. "Please. Please just let me see Dumblefore."

"Mr Potter," Mcgonagall said. "I do not take my students to see the headmaster at 3AM in the morning over _dreams_."

"It's not a dream," he insisted, trying to stand up again. He was pushed back down by McGonagall. "Please. My scar was hurting ... please. We c-can't let him ... we have to do something ... it was a vision, or something. I ... I ...My scar was hurting ... and Mr Weasley was getting attacked ... by a snake. Please. Please."

There were were a few seconds of silence, and then McGonagall nodded reluctantly. She, with the help of Ron, got Harry to his feet.

"I'll take you to the headmaster," she said quietly. "If this is a vision from ... from _him_ ..." She didn't finish the end of her sentence, but Harry knew what she was going to say.

"The rest of you," she said quietly. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

Grimmauld Place was almost completely silent.

Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, Remus and Tonks were all gathered in the sitting room. Ginny was sobbing quietly, whilst Ron was trying to comfort her. Harry sat on his own in a chair, staring blankly at the wall opposite him.

_I was the snake._

Harry ran a hand through his hair.

_He could be dead._

"Would anyone like a cup of t-tea?" Tonks asked quietly.

_It's my fault._

Nobody spoke a word, and Tonks looked away. "Sorry."

_What if he's dead? It's MY fault._

Harry stood up abruptly, and all faces turned to him.

"Uh," he said. " ... toilet. Just ... need to pee. I'll ... be back in a second."

And with that, he bounded out of the room, trying to resist the urge to collapse on the floor in fits of tears. He ran up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Ron last summer. When he was there, he collapsed on the bed, sobbing.

He stayed like that for a long time. He had stopped crying at one point, and was now huddled up - arms around his knees - shaking.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Harry?" a voice asked gently - it was Sirius.

"What?" he asked huskily, sitting up straight.

The door creaked open, and Sirius walked in. He smiled sadly and sat down next to Harry. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, willing his voice not to sound like he had just been crying. "I guess so."

Sirius placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mad-eye's here. You'll be going to see Mr Weasley soon, okay?"

Harry shook his head, looking away. "No. I shouldn't go."

"But Harry," he said softly. "I'm sure -"

"It was my fault," he said. "It was my fault that Mr Weasely was attacked."

Sirius simply raised on eyebrow at Harry, gesturing from him to explain.

"I was the snake," he said. "It was me."

Sirius's eyebrows knotted together. "Harry, don't be ridiculous. You -"

"It was me," he said shakily. "I did it. It was me ... in the dream. I was doing it."

"Did you tell Dumbledore this?" Sirius asked quietly.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Sirius smiled, relieved. "So it's nothing to worry about, Harry. If Dumbledore wasn't concerned, then you shouldn't be, either."

"But what if he ... possessed me or something. when ... when I was talking to Dumbledore I felt ... not like myself. I felt like I wanted to _attack_ him."

Sirius shrugged. "That was probably just a side effect of the dream, Harry." He took a breath. "There's no need to worry. If _he_ had possessed you, do you really think Dumbledore would have let you come here?"

Harry sighed, absent-mindedly placing a finger on his forehead, over his scar. "I s'pose not."

Sirius smiled again. "Now, come on. Come downstairs and have some breakfast with the rest of us. Then you'll be off to St. Mungo's. It's not up for debate; Ron needs you right now, as do the rest of the Weasleys." Sirius pulled Harry up by his arm, and half dragged him out of the room. "Right. Come on."

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think?

Thank you so much for all of the favs, follows and reviews! I love getting reviews from you guys :)

Thanks again to Talltree-san and Crystal Bruner, the anonymous reviewers, along with everyone else who reviewed! Thank you!

Please point out any spelling/grammar errors so I can fix them. Thanks.

In the next chapter there will be more of Draco - so don't panic!


	5. Guilty Conscience

The brief visit to see Mr Weasley left Harry feeling more and more concerned. Even thinking about the dream made him shake with worry and fear. Mr Weasly was apparently in a 'stable condition', but those words did nothing to rest Harry's mind.

Sirius spent the run up to Christmas trying to cheer Harry up, trying to help him forget what had happened. But no matter what Sirius did, Harry couldn't forget. The constant worry in the back of his mind was making him feel physically sick. He couldn't eat much, could hardly sleep, and was constantly on edge.

The guilt made Harry feel helpless, but under the watchful eye of Sirius, he barely had any time to cut, let alone try anything riskier.

Every morning Sirius would pull Harry aside and check his arms for new scars. Every morning he found them.

But he didn't get mad, didn't shout. He just told Harry calmly not to do it again.

"We all love you, Harry," he would say, eyes soft, a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I don't want you hurting yourself."

Of course, Harry didn't listen, and every morning the scars would be deeper and there would be twice as many as the day before. He felt like a failure. Every morning Sirius's eyes seemed to lose more and more of their mischievous glint. It seemed like Harry was bringing Sirius down with him.

It didn't help that he was constantly overhearing snippets of conversation that weren't exactly encouraging. 'Possessed' and 'dangerous' were words Harry was starting to hear too often in conjunction with his own name.

He tried not to let his emotions get the better of him, tried not to lose control when he started to cut. He knew that would almost definitely end in a trip to St Mungo's.

So he bottled most of it in, keeping it locked away. Safe.

Safe for now, at least.

* * *

Harry sat alone in his room, holding a piece of broken glass in his hands. He sat in darkness, shaking from the tears that failed to fall. He couldn't make himself cry, not now. He felt too panicked, too over his head with guilt to cry.

Mrs Weasley had just come back from St Mungo's with the news that Mr Weasley had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, that his condition was quickly deteriorating. In the confusion that followed that revelation, Harry had managed to run upstairs, hiding away in his bedroom again.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He held the shard of glass tighter, watching as the blood dripped down his hand, barely wincing at the pain.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, shaking intensifying. "I'm so sorry."

He was here to do what he now knew he should have done a long time ago, what he had messed up before and what he now considered as finishing what he started.

_I'm sorry._

He dug the shard into his arm, not even feeling the pain anymore. Everything was numb to him. Not even this hurt, which he was disappointed at.

He pushed the shard of glass down his flesh, surprised at how quickly the blood dripped out of him. He dropped the shard uncaringly to the floor and laid back on the bed, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

_I've killed him. What if I've killed him?_

Harry sobbed quietly, knowing that he should have just killed himself when he had the chance.

_I was the snake. It was me._

Harry sobbed again, his frail frame shaking uncontrollably.

_I'm sorry, Mr Weasely. I'm sorry Cedric. Mum. Dad. I'm sorry._

_And I'm sorry, Sirius, Remus, Ron, Hermione - everyone - for being too weak to carry on._

He closed his eyes.

* * *

He was suddenly being shaken awake.

"Harry?" a voice asked. "Come on, wake up. Harry, get up. Come on. Open your eyes for me."

"Moony!" he heard a louder voice shout. "Do something! DO SOMETHING!"

Harry slowly blinked open his eyes. Another failed attempt.

_Damn._

"That's it, Harry," the voice - Remus - said softly. "Well done. Okay then, let's have a look at that arm of yours."

"No," he mumbled. "Let me ... let me ..."

_Let me die._

The room was dark, but Harry could make out Sirius standing in the doorway, shaking. Remus took hold of Harry's arm - which was still bleeding.

Harry closed his eyes again, wanting to go back into the peaceful darkness he had just recently left.

"No, Harry," Remus said, panicked. "Come on, keep with me."

Harry shook his head slowly. "Too ... tired."

"MOONY!" Sirius yelled. "Moony, _please_... oh god, oh god, oh god, oh _god_ ..."

"Sirius, just calm down," Remus said calmly. "Harry's going to be okay - _Sirius_, listen to me. He's going to be fine. Sirius. _Sirius!_"

"Remus," he said quietly. "Remus help him. Help him. Please. Do something ... do something ... I can't ... I can't ..."

"Sirius," Lupin said. "He's going to be fine. _Fine_. Now, get Tonks from downstairs for me - I need some help."

Sirius ran his hands through his hair. "O-okay ..."

"Whatever you do," Remus added softly. "Do not let any of the children know what's going on. Or Molly. She can't know either, not now."

Sirius looked back at Harry. "Are you sure he's -?"

"Sirius," Remus said gently. "Just go. Get Tonks."

Sirius nodded once, and left.

Harry tried to say "No", that he didn't need any help, but all that came out of his mouth was a strangled groan.

He shouldn't have done this now, not when they were still worrying about Mr Weasley. He was so _selfish_.

"It's okay, cub," Remus said softly. "It's all right. Don't worry."

Harry could only hear his own heavy, raspy breathing. Remus was holding his hand gently whilst pressing down on the deep gash in Harry's arm. He hadn't realised how deep it was.

"Remus?" a bright voice called.

"N-no," Harry said, trying to struggle away. "Please... she can't ..."

And then he heard a gasp. "I-is that bl-?"

"Tonks, I need your help," Remus said firmly. "Press down here for me - yes, there. I just ... I need to take a few seconds to breathe, that's all. Th-then I'll ..."

"It's all right, Remus," Tonks said softly, though Harry could hear her voice shaking. "Do you want me to heal it?"

"No," he said quickly. "I-it's okay."

Then there were a couple of seconds of silence, followed by Remus muttering something quietly.

There was sudden pain in Harry's arm, and he winced - only just holding back a whimper. But then the pain receded, and he could feel that the wound had closed up, and the bleeding had just about stopped.

Tonks let go of his arm, instead stroking back some hair from his face.

"It's all right, Harry," she said softly. "You'll be okay."

He mumbled something incoherently, not knowing exactly what he had intended to say in the first place.

"H-Harry," Sirius said, barging past Tonks to be at his side. "Harry I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been here for you. I should have -"

"It's okay," Harry said, knowing he was convincing nobody. "I'm fine."

He felt ready to break down into sobs. He wanted to give up.

Why couldn't he just die? Why couldn't he get it over with?

* * *

Draco sat in his room, head in his hands.

This was going to be his last Christmas before his 16th birthday. It was also his last Christmas before becoming a Death Eater.

Sure, nobody said it, nobody had told him that it was going to happen, but he knew. His mother had come into his room earlier, crying. She hadn't told Draco why she was crying, but he knew why. That was why he was sitting alone in his room now, head in his hands, a few days before Christmas. His parents were arguing downstairs - about him, about what would inevitably happen in less than a year's time.

The shouting slowly stopped, and Draco heard light footsteps coming up the stairs. He straightened up, and watched as his door opened. His mother came in, a sad smile on her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, and it looked like she was still trying to hold back tears.

"Draco," she said shakily. "Are you okay?"

He nodded silently, and his mother came to sit on his bed next to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How has your homework been coming along?"

He shrugged, looking over to his untidy desk. It was the result of his refusal to let the house elf touch any of his things.

"You understand what your father and I are talking about, don't you?"

He nodded. "Yes, I know what you're talking about."

She gulped. "Your father thinks that it would be best for us, for you, if you ... if you joined."

Draco could feel himself shaking. His heart started to beat faster. "Do I -?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "Draco, you have to."

"What if I -?"

"If you _don't_?" she said sharply, losing any of her earlier gentleness. "Draco, if you don't, the Dark Lord will have you ... He will kill you Draco, or worse."

And then his mother broke down crying again. Draco patted her awkwardly on the back, but that only made her sob harder.

"It's okay, mum," he said. "I'll do it. It'll be okay."

"I don't want you joining," she sobbed. "My sister ... have you seen what she's _become_? I don't want you e-ending up like that. I d-don't -"

There was a knock on his bedroom door, and Lucius walked in, not meeting his son's eye. Draco felt anger boil up inside of him as soon as he saw his father. The man's expression was cold, emotionless. He looked like he didn't feel a thing.

"Narcissa," he said coldly. "Draco. There is to be no more talk of this matter. It will be discussed another day. Come downstairs."

* * *

Harry woke up on Christmas day to the padding of footsteps outside his bedroom door. Ron was still asleep - snoring as usual - and it seemed far too early for anyone to have gotten up.

Mr Weasley had apparently recovered, and was starting to get better, so Harry didn't think the noise was any of the Weasley's, who were all trying to get a decent night's sleep before visiting Mr Weasley later today. The door creaked open, and Harry opened his eyes just enough to see who it was.

Sirius stood in the doorway, humming Christmas carols under his breath. He tiptoed into the room, still obviously unaware that Harry was awake. It seemed as if he was carrying something - two things, to be exact. He walked over to Ron's bed, dropping one of them there at the foot of the bed. He kept hold of the other one.

Still humming, he turned and carefully made his way towards Harry's bed again. He started humming more loudly, and then poked Harry in the shoulder.

Harry opened his eyes. "What's going on?"

Sirius jumped, and then made an odd sound that was halfway between a yelp and a cough. Ron stirred in his bed, mumbling something quietly before returning to his snoring.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, trying to keep a straight face. "Hey, merry Christmas! . . . What are you doing up?"

Harry sat up in his bed, smiling. "I dunno. I just woke up. There was this annoying _humming_ sound, and then I felt somebody _poke_ me."

Sirius feigned a look of innocence, holding his hands up in the air. "I don't know what you're on about. I was just putting your present on your bed. It's not _my_ fault if it woke you up!" Then his trademark mischievous smile returned. "You hungry? Wanna get some food?"

Harry smiled, sliding off the side of the bed quietly and grabbing his glasses. Sirius crept towards the door and Harry followed him into the corridor. He couldn't stand being alone with his thoughts.

"What's the time?"

Sirius shrugged. "Five? Six? I'm not sure. Hey, do you want to open your present from Remus and I? Seeing as I already have it!" He beamed. "We can go down to the sitting room. I'll pour you a mug of cocoa and we'll -"

There was a creak from behind them, and they turned in unison, meeting the face of a very tired looking Lupin.

"What did you say we were doing?" Lupin yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "Merry -" yawn "- Christmas, Harry."

Sirius pulled Lupin's sleeve, tugging him down the corridor. "Harry's going to open his presents and then we're all going to have breakfast together. Then we'll wake up the rest of them and they can -"

"All right," said Lupin. "All right, keep your voice down. Everyone else is still asleep."

Sirius laughed quietly, and the three of them crept slowly down the stairs, and into the sitting room.

As soon as Harry say down, Sirius passed him the present. It felt heavy and rigid - almost like a slab of slate. Harry looked up questioningly at Sirius, who just smiled down at him encouragingly.

"Go on," he said, fidgeting in his seat. "Open it."

Harry tore open the wrapping paper, eyebrows knotting together at what he was holding.

"It's a -"

"Mirror," Sirius finished. "But it's not just an ordinary mirror. It's a two-way mirror. If you ever need to talk to me, you say my name into it. You'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours." He held up an exact copy of the mirror Harry was holding. "This is my one. That one's yours."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"Your father and I used to use them in school."

Harry turned the object over in his hands, feeling tears start to well up in his eyes. "Th-thank you."

Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder. "So whenever you feel down, or just want to talk, I'll be there for you."

Remus patted Harry gently on the back. "Use it, Harry. Whenever you need to."

Harry smiled, not quite knowing what to make of it all. "I'll use it," he said quietly, unsure whether he was telling the truth or not.

"And when that Umbridge woman stops being so uptight, Dumbledore said I could come back to stay with you in Hogwarts for a bit!"

Harry felt his heart sink slightly. "Oh. That's good."

Sirius didn't seem to notice his godson's lack of enthusiasm, and clapped him on the back. "Yep. Hopefully in a few months, if all goes well."

Harry forced out a smile, knowing full well that if all went to plan, he wouldn't still be alive in a few months' time.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for such a long time between updates!

Anyway, I'd love to hear what you guys think of this chapter :) Would you like to see more of Christmas? Or would you prefer them to get back to school quickly?

Thank you everyone for the great reviews! Seriously, they make me so happy! I love hearing your opinions.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!


	6. A Gentleman's Agreement

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

* * *

As the day went on, the atmosphere around the house picked up, and almost everyone got caught up in the Christmas spirit. Harry received lots of lovely gifts from his friends - he even got a bunch of good defensive books from Remus and Sirius. They told him not to let anyone else know about the mirror, though, so didn't tell his friends anything about that, not that he wanted to, anyway.

Seeing as Mr Weasley was still in St. Mungos, Christmas day meant an outing to the hospital. Lupin had offered to stay home with Sirius. Harry had also quietly offered to stay home, but both Lupin and Sirius had told him he was crazy for even suggesting such a thing. They didn't bring up what had happened, but Harry knew that they wanted him to get out of the house, to try to forget what had happened for a couple of hours.

So Harry went with the Weasleys and Hermione - accompanied by an extremely overprotective Tonks and a paranoid Moody.

Harry had stayed near the back of the group with Moody, not wanting to talk with anyone else - especially not Tonks, who was acting very strangely around him. So Harry walked with Moody in a peaceful silence through the hospital.

The Weasleys were in a good mood, presents in tow for Arthur to open at his bedside. Ron and Hermione chatted, occasionally looking back at Harry, giving him concerned looks. He felt bad for not talking to them - especially Ron. Despite Ron's seemingly joyful attitude, Harry could tell he was worrying about his dad.

Harry still felt physically sick every time he thought about what had happened. He had talked to Ginny, who made it perfectly clear that she didn't think he had been possessed. But that didn't make things any easier for him. He was still completely convinced that it was his fault and nobody - not even Sirius - could make him see otherwise.

"Hey," Moody said quietly. "Potter. Keep up. Almost there."

Harry only just realised that they were starting to lose sight of the Weasleys and Hermione down the long hospital hallway. Harry sighed, and picked up the pace a little, trying to dodge the crowds of visitors that bustled down the corridor. The portraits were singing Christmas carols and wishing people 'Merry Christmas' as they walked past. A crowd of people had gathered around one man in a portrait who was reciting Jingle Bells dramatically instead of singing it.

Harry held his present for Mr Weasley in shaking hands. Normally, he would get Mr Weasley a simple Muggle item, but this Christmas he had managed to find a screwdriver, a circuit-board and a couple of used batteries along with a bag of small items he had collected for him over the summer. It was a peace-offering, of sorts, and he hoped that Mr Weasley would accept it.

They finally approached Mr Weasley's room. The Weasleys, Hermione and Tonks were all crowded around the bed, watching as Mr Weasley opened his presents and occasionally clapping in glee. Harry gave Mr Weasley the gift, which he seemed very happy to receive.

"Thank you, Harry," he said, smiling. "Aren't they clever, those Muggles? What do you call this again, Harry? Circle board? Cicrut board? Circuit board?"

Harry nodded, trying to keep up his forced smile. "Circuit."

"And the Muggles use this in their Eckeltricity? Molly, didn't I tell you they were clever?"

"Yes, dear," Mrs Weasley said absently whilst rearranging the flowers on the windowsill.

After what Harry thought was enough time talking to Mr Weasley, he managed to slip away. He left when he thought nobody would notice his absence. He ran through the corridors, getting swallowed up into the crowds of people who had come in the 'midday rush' to visit relatices.

He followed the signs until he got to the bathrooms. He walked in, locking himself into a cubicle before anyone noticed him and started arguing with him about whether Voldemort had really returned.

Harry leant back against the door of the cubicle, raking his fingers through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

He reached into his pocket for the small shard of glass that he had managed to hide from Sirius for the last couple of days. He looked at it for a moment, and then thought of the mirror that Sirius gave him. He could feel it in his back pocket; Sirius hadn't let him go out of the house without it.

He wanted to call Sirius through the mirror, but didn't know whether he actually had the guts to do it. So instead he held the shard of glass tightly, took a deep breath and then dug the shard into his arm. Every bad thought left him as the blood dripped out of him. Instantly it calmed him, made his heartbeat slow.

He stood there for what seemed like hours, blood running down from the cut in his arm. He knew he had to get back but couldn't face talking to any of them.

"Harry?," he heard a voice call. "You in here?"

Harry dropped the piece of glass into his pocket, and tilted his head to one side, trying to figure out whose voice it was. It sounded like Fred, so Harry rolled down his sleeves, sighed, wiped his eyes and then unlocked the door. Fred and George stood near the sinks.

"There you are, Harry," Fred said, straightening up.

George straightened up too. "Thought we lost you there for a minute."

Fred chuckled. "Mum said she'd -" His smile faded and that constant look of mischief in his eyes was replaced with worry "Wait, Harry, are you okay?"

He nodded, looking away. "Yeah, 'm fine. Fine."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Fred give George a meaningful look.

"Is that blood on your sleeve?" Fred said quietly, in a tone Harry wasn't used to hearing from him, from either of them.

Harry looked up at them, startled, and then looked back down at his sleeve, which was now harbouring a small dark red stain.

"Eh, well I guess ... I uh ... I must have just ..."

"We should take you to a healer," said Fred.

"They'll be able to heal it in no time."

Harry felt panic rise up in his throat.

"I'm fine," he said shakily. "It doesn't hurt. I'm sure it'll be okay."

Fred pulled Harry along. "Well let's at least show mum. She can heal it for you instead, if you'd like."

"No, no, no," Harry said, trying to struggle back. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. I'll ... It's probably just a scratch."

"It looks a bit deeper than a scratch, Harry," said George carefully.

"You should get it seen to."

Harry shrugged, feeling his arm twinge slightly. "It'll be fine. Come on, let's get back before your mum gets even more mad with me."

Fred looked ready to protest but George was the one who spoke up first.

"Okay, then. But if it doesn't stop bleeding soon we're getting a healer, all right?"

Harry nodded, and George got his wand out from his pocket.

"We'll clean the dried blood off," he explained, reaching out to roll up Harry's sleeve.

"Hey," Harry said, moving his arm back. "I'm fine, okay? Don't need to do that."

George sighed, pointing his wand at Harry's arm anyway. "Tergeo."

The blood sizzled off the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a dusty brown residue behind. Harry brushed it off gently, not wanting to make his wound bleed any more.

"Right," said Fred, not quite back to his jovial self. "Let's go. Mum said we could go to the café and get cocoa after. What do you say?"

* * *

Draco had written another letter to Lupin recently, addressing it to 'Oliver' just in case his parents - or anyone else - decided to check his letters. He tried to keep his letters vague, scared that his parents would find out what he was planning with Lupin and what he and Lupin were _trying_ to plan with Dumbledore. But both Draco and Lupin becoming increasingly sloppy, Draco once accidentally asking whether "_Dumbledore has thought more about it_". Luckily, his parents hadn't found out anything so far.

It was Boxing Day in the Malfoy household, and Draco's parents were busy all day finalising arrangements for the Malfoy New Year party. Draco had packed and unpacked his bag with clothes, food and books with the hope of running away. But then he realised that there was nowhere _for_ him to go. Hogwarts had been a possibility, but he quickly ruled that out, knowing that without Dumbledore's backing his parents could easily force him to come back if he ran away.

No, he would have to wait until Lupin sorted things out. It was a fair price to pay for what he had to do on his end of the bargain.

There was a sudden tapping on his window followed by a squawk. Draco turned his head; his owl, Bubby (who he had named when he was seven, or so he told everyone) was at the window, a rolled up piece of parchment attached to his leg. Draco opened the window and unclipped the letter. Bubby flew off, probably downstairs to either scrounge some food from the house-elves or annoy Narcissa.

Draco sat down at his perpetually messy desk with a sigh and rolled out the piece of parchment. The letter was from Lupin, or 'Oliver'. The agreement they had made was starting to bite Lupin in the back, and Draco knew it. He was going out of his way to sort this out whilst Draco's end of the deal hadn't been troublesome at all so far.

Draco read the letter slowly, trying to let the words in, trying not to let excitement and hope take over.

_Dear Draco,  
__How have your holidays been so far? I hope your Christmas was an enjoyable one.  
__If what you say is correct - that there isn't much time until you join - then I think I could convince HIM to give you protection and give you a place to stay for the summer. He isn't certain where your loyalty stands. But hopefully, if you convince him you're with us, he will let you -_

"Draco?" There was a knock on the door.

Draco jumped, knocking a bottle of ink to the floor. He picked that up quickly, but before he managed to hide the letter his mother came in. The letter was still in his hands, and he had no idea what to do.

She walked into his room, looking around with an expression of distaste before turning to Draco. "This room really is a mess, Draco." She sighed, and then gave him a stern look. "What on _earth_ are you making that poor owl _send_? He looks exhausted!" Then she looked at him more closely, eyes flickering down to what he was holding in his hand. "And what are you reading? Is this from one of your friends?"

Draco tried to hold onto his letter but his mother snatched it away from him. Her eyes scanned over it in silence, frown deepening as the letter went on.

"What is this?" she asked quietly. She looked up. "Draco, what is this?"

Draco felt his mouth dry out. "Uh, I ..."

"Who is 'Oliver'?" She took in a deep breath. "Draco? Is _this_ who you've been writing to all holiday?"

His heart began to beat faster. His mother placed the letter on his desk and got out her wand.

"I have _no_ idea what you think you're doing," she said shakily, "but you will _not_ be writing to this _Oliver_ anymore, do you understand? Whatever this is, Draco, you will speak of it to no-one. Do you understand, Draco? ... _Draco_?"

Draco would have replied if he wasn't currently in the midst of freaking out. He had to keep reminding himself that _real_ Malfoys never "freaked out". They might become mildly irritated by a situation, but never went as far as to freak out. It simply wasn't the done thing. But then he remembered that he didn't care.

_I'll have to become a Death Eater. _

_They'll make me join him. _

_They'll make me kill. _

_I can't kill. I _won't_ kill._

"Draco," his mother snapped. "Do you understand?"

He nodded silently, not looking at her for fear of giving even more away.

His mother pointed her wand at the letter. "_Incendio_."

The piece of paper shrivelled up and then started smoking before bursting into flames. Draco's dreams to leave this place and join Dumbledore burned with it. He felt tears prick at his eyes, but certainly didn't cry. For a Malfoy, crying was much worse than freaking out, and it seemed like he was going to continue being a Malfoy for now.

"You are _not_ to send any more letters," Narcissa said coldly. She gave him a pointed look. "Your father won't be hearing about this, but if this happens again, Draco, he most definitely _will_."

Draco looked down. "Fine."

And then rather unexpectedly her hand connected with his cheek, a clap resonating around the room. He hissed at the pain, jumping back from her and placing his hand on the side of his face. He rubbed his still-stinging cheekbone, staring up at his mother in disbelief.

"What was that for?" he asked, feeling as if that slap was completely unwarranted.

"Be careful, Draco," she said quietly, eyes glistening with tears. "I love you so much. I want you to be safe."

He frowned at her. "That hurt!"

She smiled sadly. "Remember your family, Draco. Blood is thicker than water. You are a _Malfoy_."

He looked away. "I know."

"And our loyalties lie with the Dark Lord," she added quietly, "whether you agree with it or not."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I really appreciate them.

The next chapter will be back in Hogwarts, so yay! What do you think the agreement between Draco and Remus is about?

Also, as a side note, I am now officially 16! Wahoo! I can now legally drive a tractor! Oh, the perks of being a British citizen...


	7. Forgiven

Harry sat next to Sirius in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place, absently eating a bowl of cereal. This was the last full day before he had to go back to Hogwarts, and he was only now starting to realise exactly how much he would actually miss being here. Sirius had asked Harry to stay with him for the rest of the year instead of go back to Hogwarts, but he had refused. There was no way he would burden Sirius with something like that.

Mrs Weasley barged into the kitchen, a demented smile on her face. "I have some very exciting news for you all," she announced from the doorway, waving a piece of parchment in the air.

"Percy's quit his job," she said, waving the letter around even more. "He said that he's quit his job to spend more time with the family." She looked up, giving the room a watery smile. "He wants to come back. And he's visiting Arthur next week!"

Remus stopped eating and looked up at Mrs Weasley with a smile. "See, Molly," he said kindly. "I told you he'd come around eventually."

"He's still a git, mum," Fred reminded her. Ginny and George nodded in agreement whilst Ron just sighed. Harry didn't know what to think of this new development, so decided to stay quiet.

Mrs Weasley hadn't seemed to have noticed Fred's 'git' remark, and continued to stare down happily at the letter.

"I wouldn't trust him, not for one minute," said George. "He'll probably sell us out to Fudge as soon as he gets back."

_That_ remark, however, earned a light whack across the head from Mrs Weasley.

"George," she scolded. "He's your brother! And he has _changed_! Read it!" she said, thrusting the letter into the twin's hands.

George read over the letter, eyebrows raised with disbelief, before handing it back. "You really think he's being serious?"

Mrs Weasley snatched back the letter, returning to reading it again with a smile. "Oh, look, isn't that wonderful? We can all be a family again."

Ginny looked up across the table at Harry, rolling her eyes. "And now he's gone back to being Perfect Percy in mum's eyes. Typical."

"Perfect Percy _Weatherby_," George corrected. "We're not letting him forget _that_ in a hurry."

Even though Sirius had yet to properly meet the infamous Percy Weasley, he still chuckled at George's comment. Harry held back his own laughter for the sake of Mrs Weasley, who was currently rereading the letter with a tear in her eye.

"I can't wait so see him . . ." she said, smiling down at the letter.

"_I_ can," Ron grumbled, shovelling a spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

Ginny nodded. "Thank Merlin we'll be in Hogwarts by the time he's back."

Mrs Weasley suddenly snapped up her head at the word 'Hogwarts', dropping the letter down on the table. "Has everyone packed?" she asked. "Harry, dear? Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?"

"Uh . . ." he said, which was as good as saying 'no'. Mrs Weasley threw him a frown.

"Harry," she said. "Go upstairs and pack your bag. Ron? Is everything ready? Hermione, dear? Ginny? We don't want any last-minute rushes like last year! Percy always had his things ready before anyone else ..."

Harry stood up from the table, walking out of the kitchen alone. Nobody followed him, thankfully, and he made the way upstairs, leaving behind the arguments about Percy and other things he wasn't particularly concerned about.

It was a relief, if he was honest, to have a little time to himself. Fred and George were constantly giving him anxious glances, and Sirius - as per usual - wouldn't go ten minutes without asking him how he felt. It was starting to get a little too much.

* * *

Harry sat alone in his room, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. The Weasleys and Hermione were downstairs in the kitchen, all packed and ready to go - just waiting for Harry, Tonks and Moody to be get ready. Harry didn't want to leave. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up, could feel the panic setting in again.

There was a light knock on the door and Harry jumped. Sirius came in, smiling lightly.

"Hey," he said, oblivious to Harry's panic. "Are you ready to go? Everyone's waiting. They'll be leaving in twenty minutes. And Molly wants to check you've packed everything before you go."

"I think I've got everything ready," Harry said. "If not, you can send it to me, right?"

Sirius nodded, his smile fading a little. "Are you okay?"

Harry tried to smile, but found that an oddly hard thing to do. Sirius didn't seem to notice. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Sirius's smile returned. "Good." Then he grimaced. "Oh, by the way, Snape's here to see you."

"Snape?" Harry asked. "He's not back at school?"

Sirius shuddered dramatically, and then flashed Harry a smile. "I s'pose not. The slimy git."

There was quiet knock on the door, followed by the woody rattle of the door shaking in its frame.

"I wonder who _that_ is," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Come in, then!"

The door creaked open, and in came Remus. He looked a little nervous, as if waiting for someone to shout at him. He smiled apologetically at them both. "Hello, Harry," he said. "Are you all packed?"

"Moony?" Sirius asked, expression softening. "What d'you want? Isn't Snivelly here yet?"

There was a cough from the corridor, and Remus stepped further into the room, allowing Snape to come into view.

He stood in the doorway, glancing around the room with a look of distaste. His dark eyes settled on Sirius. "Yes, _Black_, I am here."

Sirius stood up suddenly from the bed. "Right then. What d'you want? And hurry up with it. We don't have all day."

"I am here to talk to Potter, as I thought you knew."

"Go on then," Sirius said, taking a step closer to the potions master. "What do you want to talk to him about?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I was hoping to talk to Potter on his own, actually."

Sirius didn't budge. "Well you're out of luck there, Snivellus."

"Sirius," Remus warned. "Come on, now."

Snape, however, did not look fazed. "I understand why you would want to feel more ... _involved_, Black, so maybe you _should_ stay."

Harry sat there on the bed, unsure exactly what to do. He gave Remus a pleading kind of look, hoping maybe he would explain what was happening. Remus, however, looked even more worried than Harry felt.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked quietly.

Snape smiled. "Simply that I realise you must be feeling ... frustrated that you can not do anything particularly useful for the Order, seeing as you are locked up in here, and are not allowed to go out." His words were spoken politely, but Harry could hear the bitterness under a thinly applied coating of relative civility.

Sirius muttered something under his breath, but Harry couldn't make out what he said.

Snape smirked in triumph, turning to Harry. "The Headmaster has asked me to let you know, Potter, that you will be studying Occlumency this term."

Harry stared blankly. "What?"

Snape shook his head with a sigh. "_Occlumency_, Potter. The magical defence of the mind against attack. You will receive private lessons, and you will not tell anybody what you are doing - least of all Umbridge." And then he added, as if as an afterthought, "I will be teaching you."

Sirius scoffed. "And Dumbledore thinks _you'd_ be the best person to teach this?"

Snape smirked. "That," he said "is exactly what he thinks. It's a rare branch of magic, Black. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Sirius sighed. "Dark magic, is it? That's why you're so 'good' at it?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You do jump to conclusions, don't you, Black?"

"It's hard not to," Sirius countered. "Especially when I'm talking to a Death Eater!"

"Dumbledore trusts me with his life," said Snape. "Isn't that enough for you?"

"Yes," Remus said quickly. "It is. Isn't it, Sirius? Now, let's get back to business. Your lessons with Harry..."

Harry didn't react visibly, but inside he felt a growing sense of dread build up. What had he done to deserve this? Potions lessons with Snape were bad enough. Extra lessons with him would be intolerable.

"When will I have them?" Harry asked quietly.

Snape gave him an odd look, before his usual smirk returned. "Monday evenings - six o'clock, my office."

He felt like arguing, but knew there'd be no point in it. "Okay," he said. "I'll be there."

"Okay, _sir_," said Snape.

"Excuse me," snarled Sirius. "If you haven't noticed, Snivelly, we're not in Hogwarts now. This is my house, and if anyone's going to be called sir, it's _me_." Snape gave him an incredulous look. "If you're done here," said Sirius, "you are free to go."

Snape glared at Harry. "Six o'clock, Potter. Monday."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, looking away, down at the floor. "I'll be there."

* * *

The first day back at Hogwarts was slowly turning into a disaster. Lessons were okay, seeing as Harry was under no obligation to actually talk to anyone. He spent lunch reading over his schoolbooks, on the receiving end of suspicious glances from Hermione, but he could still sit in a comfortable silence. However, dinner was painfully awkward. Harry had no excuse _not_ to talk, but still found himself sitting without a word to say.

He didn't even have the energy to join in when Ron started complaining about Harry's 'lifetime Quidditch ban', and when Hermione asked the third "Are you okay, Harry?" of the evening, he knew it was time to leave.

"I've finished," he said, pushing his half-full plate aside. "I'll see you guys back in the common room."

Ron nodded, turning back to his food. Hermione looked at him for a second before nodding too, and turning back to Ron. Harry walked out of the Great Hall as fast as he could, glad to be away from it all. He walked for a couple of minutes through almost-empty corridors, trying not to attract too much attention. He kept his head down low, not really concentrating on where he was going.

"Potter!" a voice called. It seemed so distant that Harry didn't bother looking up, hoping whoever had called him would give up on trying to talk to him.

"Hey, Potter, you idiot. Turn around!" the voice called again, and Harry turned, more than a little confused.

Draco Malfoy came walking down the corridor, face slightly pink, white-blonde hair a little messier than usual. "Didn't you hear me?" he asked, finally approaching Harry. "I've been calling you for the last five minutes. Are you deaf or something, Potter?"

Harry frowned. "What do you want?"

Draco shrugged, looking around, confirming that they were in fact alone. "Just to see ... I dunno, whether you're okay."

Harry blinked at him. "Right. Well I'm ... fine?"

Draco nodded, frowning slightly. "Good. That's fine, then. And ... uhh... how are Granger and Weasley?"

Harry spluttered. "Excuse me?"

_What kind of question is _that_? Or is he trying to be witty? Because if he's trying to be witty I really don't get it._

Draco shook his head at Harry's expression. "Never mind. Just ... never mind. I'll be going."

Just as he was turning to leave, Harry knew he had to ask him. "Malfoy," he said. "You haven't ... you haven't told anyone what happened, have you?"

Draco looked at him, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Why would you think that?"

Harry shrugged, looking away. "Dunno. Just wanted to make sure."

"Well," said Draco. "I don't see why I'd -"

"Harry! ... Malfoy?" a voice shouted. Draco and Harry turned. Ron stood at the end of the corridor, wand out, pointed straight at Draco. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Weasel," said Draco, taking a step away from Harry. "I was just talking to Potter - and before you ask, it is none of your business."

Ron looked to Harry, red eyebrows raised. "So?"

"So what?" Harry asked, suddenly finding himself defending Malfoy. Malfoy, of all people. "We were just talking."

Ron looked at Harry like he thought he was going mad. "Oh yes, and since when did you and Malfoy 'just talk'?"

"Give him a break," Draco said, leaning against the wall. "This is none of your business."

"Of course it's my business. I'm his best friend, you pompous piece of -"

"Not acting much like a best friend, are you?" Draco sneered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, face almost as red as his hair, wand still pointed at Draco.

"Ron," Harry said quietly, walking towards him. "Come on, let's just go."

"You don't think I'm a good friend?" Ron asked, backing away. "Is that what you two were talking about?"

Harry stared blankly for a few seconds. "What?" he asked. "Why on earth would I talk to him about that?"

"About _that_?" he asked. "So it's true, then?"

Harry turned back to Draco, expecting to see a smirk. Instead, Draco was frowning. Harry turned back to Ron.

"Don't be ridiculous -"

"Oh," said Ron. "So I'm being ridiculous, now, am I?"

"Oh shut up, Weasel," Draco said. "You're more stupid than you look, something even _I_ thought was impossible."

Ron glared at Harry. "What, you think I'm stupid now, too?"

Harry threw up his hands in defence. "I never said that!"

Ron hadn't seemed to have heard him, because his wand was now pointed at Harry. "Go on, what else do you think of me, then?"

"Ron," Harry said. "Just calm down a moment."

"Put the wand down, Weasley."

Ron glared at Draco, wand still pointed firmly at Harry's chest. "Don't you go telling me what to do, Malfoy! This is none of your business."

"Oh here we go," said Draco, running a hand through his hair. "Another pointless argument, another stupid -"

"Ron," said Harry, trying to block Draco out. "Just think about this for a -"

"Think about what?" Ron asked, hand shaking a little. "What is there to -?"

"Hem-hem."

The three wizards turned immediately. Umbridge stood at the other end of the corridor, smiling in the sickly sweet way that made Harry feel like throwing up. Ron was breathing heavily, wand still pointing straight at Harry.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr Weasley? I thought it was made perfectly clear that wands are _not_ to be out in the corridors."

Ron didn't say anything, and neither did Harry or Draco. Harry didn't know what to say.

She shook her head, still smiling. "Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, detention. My office, Monday at six."

Harry didn't mention that he was supposed to be having Occlumency lessons then, knowing that Umbridge would only change the date. He hoped that maybe - just maybe - she wouldn't call him back for detention another time when she found out.

"And Mr Malfoy?" she asked. "What was your role in this? Were these two boys ganging up on you?"

Draco scoffed. "Them, ganging up on _me_?" Then he looked over at Harry. "It was me who started the argument, Professor."

Umbridge frowned for a second, but her smile quickly returned. "Well, Mr Malfoy, I hope this doesn't happen again, or else there will be some serious consequences."

"But Professor, that's not fair!" said Ron. "He did much more than Harry!"

Umbridge smiled. "Do not speak like that to me, Mr Weasley. Or would you like more detentions than you already have?"

"It was my fault, Professor," Harry said, suddenly overcome with a feeling of guilt. "I threatened Ron, so he got out his wand in self-defence."

Umridge let out a small 'hmph' of satisfaction. "Then that will be two weeks of detention for you, Mr Potter, in place of Mr Weasley here, who has been another target of your ... short temper, shall we say? Monday, Potter - my office at six."

She turned and waddled off, leaving Ron grumbling about the unfairness of life and Harry staring into the distance, relieved that things didn't go as wrong as they could have gone.

"Well," said Draco, after they were sure she was out of hearing range. "That certainly was _heroic_, Potter."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron said glumly, his earlier anger gone. "I really am. I didn't mean for you to get detention, and I didn't mean what I said about -"

"It's all right," Harry said, wanting to move on as quickly as possible. "It's fine, really."

"If that's all cleared up," said Draco. "I'll be off. Nice seeing you two around. Weasel, Scarhead."

"Git," Ron mumbled.

Harry, for some reason, was starting to disagree. Maybe Draco wasn't as much of a git as they all thought.

* * *

Potter was officially a nutter, and Draco was even more confused than he was before. Giving himself up for extra detention? Was that just a Gryffindor thing, or had Harry officially gone around the bend? Even Draco knew that Umbridge was a woman to be avoided at all costs. Harry just didn't get it, did he?

Draco sighed, leaning back in his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He hadn't talked to Harry as much as he wanted to, so hadn't found out anything useful.

Maybe the pressure of being the Boy-Who-Lived had just gotten too much for him. Maybe Diggory's death had scared him. Maybe he was missing his parents. From the looks of it, Weasley seemed to be a bit of an idiot. Draco didn't know much about Granger, but assumed that she counterbalanced any of Weasley's idiocy. Still, maybe Harry was having 'friend issues'. Maybe.

Draco concluded that he was still no closer to finding out why he ended up saving Harry - was no closer to finding out why the golden boy wasn't as golden as everyone thought. He would try talking to Potter again another day, hopefully with some better results.

At least thinking about this was enough to stop him from thinking of other things, things that normally kept him awake half the night worrying. Potter was a complex enough distraction to keep his mind occupied for the time being.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for such a long wait! I really am sorry. Hopefully this slightly longer chapter made up for it. It may seem like a jumble of randomness, but I assure you it is important ^_^

Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favs! Sorry for any typos.

I don't own Harry Potter!


	8. The Calm of Despotism

Draco received the letter on Monday morning. It was a normal letter, the envelope perhaps a little browned around the edges. It was so normal, in fact, that he immediately knew what it was and who it was from. Nobody around him was particularly nosy when it came to mail, but he knew he had to open it alone.

Leaving his plate half empty, he rose from the Slytherin table and made his way out of the Great Hall. The walk out to the corridor seemed to take forever. His stomach flipped around in anticipation, and his hands shook like they never had before.

He opened the envelope slowly, taking one deep breath before he read what was written. And he read it twice, then pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. It seemed just too good to be true.

_Dear Draco,_

_The Headmaster has agreed to talk with you about your situation. He first wants to make sure that you are not a threat, and then that you are genuine in your wish to leave. If things go well, you will discuss future arrangements. He will speak to you sometime in the next two weeks._

_I hope you are well. _

_R.L_

He smiled like an idiot for the rest of the day. Even though he knew this could end badly, at least there was still some hope for him yet. And he knew that the smallest of chances was better than no chance at all

* * *

Harry's occlumency lesson was due to start in one hour. Coincidentally, so was his detention with Umbridge. If things had gone as planned, Harry would have gone straight to Snape's room, hoping to avoid Umbridge entirely. However, things did not go exactly as planned, and as Harry left the Great Hall after dinner with Ron and Hermione, he bumped into Draco Malfoy. A rather happy looking Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," he said, nodding once at Harry with a smile free of malice. "Having a good day?"

That simple question floored Harry, and he was left staring, mouth wide open, trying to think of something other than 'go away' to say in response. Thankfully, or rather unthankfully, Draco spotted Ron before Harry had a chance to say anything.

"Weasel," Draco said, smirking. "Calmed down from our last encounter yet?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron said, but that was all he said. His face was burning up with anger, but Ron didn't seem to be rising to Draco's annoyingly arrogant smirk.

"No need to be so rude, Weasley," Draco said, tilting his head to one side with a distant kind of smile that seemed like it would be more at home on the face of Luna Lovegood. Harry frowned at him in confusion, and that only made Draco's smile widen.

"Come on," said Harry, "Let's go, guys."

Hermione nodded, giving Draco a wary glance. Draco threw her a toothy smile in response. Harry sighed and pulled Ron along by the sleeve, wanting to get back to the common room and wait it out until it was time for his occlumency lesson. He couldn't risk Umbridge seeing him and reminding him of his detention; that would make it even harder to avoid.

But Ron didn't walk away with them. Instead, he pushed Harry's hand aside and pulled out his wand. He muttered an incantation under his breath, eyebrows furrowed in determination, and before any of them knew what was happening, Draco was blasted half way down the corridor. He fell to the floor, swearing as he did so.

The small rebound of the spell meant that Ron fell back into Harry, who stumbled backwards trying to regain his balance. Harry stepped back, knocking Hermione over onto the floor.

"Sorry!" he said, and she glared up at him.

Ron stepped back again, making Harry lose the balance he had only just regained. Harry managed to trip backwards over Hermione's sprawled out body. He hit the ground hard, his glasses flying off his face and sliding across the floor.

"Damn," he said quietly.

Ron was the only one left standing, and glanced up and down the corridor for witnesses, of which there were none. He apparently decided that he didn't want to be left out, so dramatically toppled to the ground too.

There were three seconds of stunned silence from them all as Draco sat up and Harry scrambled around for his glasses. He shoved them back on his face. Then:

"You IDIOT, Ronald!" Hermione said, trying to untangle herself from her and Harry's mass of limbs.

"My sentiments exactly," Draco said, from a little way down the corridor. Harry was ready to get his wand out if necessary, but Draco made no move to attack any of them, not even Ron. In fact, Draco still looked disturbingly happy.

"Don't you remember anything I told you?" Harry asked Ron, running a hand through his hair before casting another worried glance at Draco.

Ron, at least, had the grace to look ashamed. "Didn't realise it'd be that strong," he mumbled.

Draco's smile disappeared. "Well it was that bloody strong," Draco said, attempting - and failing - to stand up. "Nearly killed me, you prat." His blonde hair fell down into his eyes, hiding what Harry knew would be a positively murderous glare.

"It was an accident!" Ron said. "And you were asking for it, Malfoy, you git!"

"Look," Harry said, really not wanting to get yet another detention. "Malfoy is fine. Ron, apologise. Then we can go."

"I'm not bloody fine, Potter!" said Draco. "Do I look fine to you?"

Draco actually looked perfectly normal. Apart from the fact he was sitting on the floor, clutching his arm, it looked like nothing was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong with you," Ron said quietly, taking Harry's words right out of his mouth.

"Look at me!" Draco said, throwing his arms up in the air, and then wincing. "This is ridiculous! I didn't even do anything!"

That was when Umbridge decided to make an appearance.

"Mr Malfoy?" she asked sweetly, waddling into view. Draco put his head in his hands and let out a groan. "What is going on here? Ah, Mr Potter, there you are. This must have involved you again, am I correct?

_Oh great_, thought Harry. _Toad-face is sure to kill me now. _He tried to ignore the lingering thought in the back of his head that told him that he wouldn't really mind that outcome.

"Yes, Professor," he said, before anyone had a chance to correct her. "I was the one who blasted Draco down the corridor."

Draco sniggered at his choice of words. "Blasted," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ron looked ready to admit it was his fault, but Harry glared at him, silently telling him to keep quiet.

Umbridge waddled closer to Harry. "This calls for extra detentions, Mr Potter." She pointed a chubby finger at him.

Harry nodded glumly. "Yes, Professor."

She gave him an odd look, and then smiled. "We'll start right now, shall we?" And with that she grabbed his wrist, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him down the corridor. He tried not to wince as her fingers pressed into the scars on his arms, and glanced back at Ron, Hermione and Draco.

"I'll see you guys later, then," he said, trying to keep up a smile.

Draco waved, beaming at him. "Have fun!"

Harry scowled.

Just as he turned the corner, he swore he saw Hermione smack Ron around the head. Umbridge pulled his arm harshly, making him stumble, and for a moment it felt as if his arm had come out of its socket.

They walked down the corridor in peaceful silence, until Umbridge let out one of her infamous 'a-hems', and Harry knew some sort of lecture was about to begin.

"Your questionable behaviour in the corridors needs to be straightened out. The message needs to sink in, Mr Potter," she said, pulling Harry through her door and into her office. "Sit," she said, as if commanding a dog. Harry was reminded, for a moment, of his Aunt Marge. He shuddered, and then sat down on the chair opposite her desk.

"Your anger needs to be managed effectively. So you will be doing lines for me today, Mr Potter," she said, and Harry was instantly relieved. She pushed a quill and piece of parchment across the table, smiling blandly at him. "You may start as soon as you're ready."

He looked down at the quill and parchment, and then back up at her again. "Uh, Professor?" he asked. "Isn't there any ink?"

She gave him a forced smile. "This is one of my special quills, and therefore it requires no ink. You will be writing 'I will control my temper' for me," she said. Harry felt rather like laughing at what she was asking him to write, but still hoped that Snape would come looking for him soon for their occlumency lesson, which was due to start in less than half an hour, if Umbridge's clock told the truth.

Harry started to write, and as soon as he did he felt a faint prickle in the back of his hand. He wrote the line out a couple more times, and only after the fourth line he finally realised what was happening. The red ink should have given it away long ago, but only now he made the connection.

_Oh_, he thought, rubbing the back of his hand. _So the ink is my blood, and the quill is effectively cutting into my skin. That's actually pretty neat_.

It didn't alarm him as much as it probably should have; if anything, it made him more keen to do the detention. He pressed the quill down hard into the paper, and was rewarded with a trickle of blood running down his hand, and a much larger blot of red on the paper. He instinctively hissed at the pain; it hurt more than he expected.

"Is everything all right there, Mr Potter?"

He spoke through a forced smile, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of his grimace. "Yes, Professor."

He continued to write for what seemed like forever, pressing the quill harder and harder into the paper, each time being rewarded with a sharper pain than before. He didn't know why he felt the need to do it, but the pain helped calm his mind.

His hand was dripping with blood, and his paper was covered in blotches of the 'ink' where he had pushed the quill a little too hard. His hand was a mess, but Harry rather enjoyed the drama of it all - it put things in perspective. He could already feel the cut healing, but knew it was too deep to heal properly - even with a bit of help from the magic of the quill.

"Mr Potter," Umbridge finally said. "That is -" Her eyes widened as she took in the mess of blood that covered the dark mahogany table. "You - ahem - you may go. I expect to see you on Wednesday at six PM."

"Oh," he said, looking around the room, eyes drawn to the clock. Thankfully, it was only ten past six. He still had time for his occlumency lesson with Snape. "I'm finished already?"

She coughed, which Harry took as a 'yes'. "Wednesday, Mr Potter. Six PM."

"Yes, Professor," he said, tucking the chair back under the table.

She stared at him for a second, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Harry wiped the back of his still bleeding hand on his trouser leg and gave her a smile. "See you, then," he said, and slowly made his way out of there, unsure what to think of what had just happened.

Maybe detentions with Umbridge wouldn't be so bad after all. She had probably counted on the fact that most people didn't like pain. But Harry was pretty indifferent to it, to be honest. Sometimes he enjoyed it, yes, but most of the time he didn't care either way. It was never too uncomfortable, and the sight of his blood helped him to relax.

He walked down the corridor, approaching the potions room. Harry knocked on Snape's door, waiting for a while for him to finally shout "Come in!"

Harry pushed open the door, which creaked ominously. He took a few careful steps in.

"Uhh," he said. "Sorry I'm late...?" It sounded too much like a question, and Harry cursed himself.

"Where have you been, Potter?" he asked, frowning down at Harry from his desk.

"Detention, sir," he said. "With Umbridge."

Snape smirked. "Detention already? That, of course, is only to be expected from somebody of your ... calibre."

Harry didn't reply, just felt an odd sinking feeling in his chest that told him this wasn't going to be good.

Snape stood from his desk and paced towards Harry, a smirk on his face.

"Occlumency," he began, "is the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It can prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, one's _memories_. A skilled Legilimens can _influence_ your thoughts, control your emotions, plant images inside your head."

Harry gulped. "Like a mind reader?" Then he realised how stupid that sounded, so added "kind of" at the end.

Snape scoffed. "It is much more than simply reading the mind, Potter. Your brain is not a book to be flicked through. The mind is a maze."

Harry looked around the room. "So Voldemort is a - a Legili...thingy."

"Yes," Snape said, not bothering to correct Harry. "But there also appears to be an extra connection between the Dark Lord's mind and your own. Whether he is also aware of this connection remains to be seen. Let us pray he remains ignorant."

"What will happen if he finds out about it?"

Snape gave him a look that said it all. If Voldemort found out about it, Harry knew he would be screwed.

"Oh," said Harry.

"Used properly," Snape said after a moment, "the power of Occlumency will help shield you from access or influence. In these lessons I will attempt to penetrate your mind. You will attempt to resist. Prepare yourself!" Harry had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, so just stood a little straighter. Snape drew his wand. "Empty your mind...Legilimens!"

Images flashed through Harry's head faster than he could make out what they were, like flicking quickly through a picture book . The memories slowed down, and Harry was beginning to make out a few of them. His uncle beating him when he was about seven years old, Dudley pushing him over onto the pavement, Dudley throwing his glasses out of the car window.

Harry was too stunned to fight back against Snape's attack, and so the memories kept coming. He knew what Snape would soon see, that he would eventually come across a memory that Harry wanted to keep private. As soon as he realised the implications of what would inevitably happen, he tried his hardest to push Snape out of his mind.

Harry stumbled back, the room coming back into focus again.

"That should have been easier, Potter," Snape said. "But it was a fair attempt."

Harry beamed at the praise. Snape,wasn't normally so nice. Maybe he felt sorry for him. Those memories weren't exactly the best he had.

"Don't get too cocky, Potter," Snape said. "You still let me see far into your mind. We will try again -"

"Wait," Harry said. "Let me just...get my breath back."

Snape laughed harshly. "The Dark Lord won't wait for you to compose yourself, Potter," he said. "Legilimens!"

The first memory was one he didn't even know he had. His mother was laughing, staring down at him with a wide smile on her face, making cooing noises. And the baby Harry in the memory was laughing too - hysterically laughing. It was so painfully sweet that Harry felt like crying. He pushed the memory away, not wanting to be reminded of how much he missed his parents, especially at times like these when he was just starting to forget how much he ached to see them again.

The memory changed. It was the triwizard tournament, and he was in the graveyard with Cerdic. Harry pushed that memory away as fast as he could, not wanting to watch that again. He had watched it so many times before in his nightmares.

He stumbled back, opening his eyes to the potions classroom.

"That was better," Snape said quietly, expression indecipherable, "but only marginally."

Harry could hardly breathe. "Th-thanks. Are we -?"

"Legilimens!"

Harry saw Draco in this memory, and it was the Draco who was staring down at him in the bathroom. The memory was hazy, like looking through frosted glass, but Harry pushed it out of his mind before it became clearer. He couldn't risk Snape seeing the rest of that.

Harry gripped onto the desk, trying to control his unsteady breathing.

"Good, Snape said, giving him a curious look but not commenting on the memory. "One more attempt and the you may leave. Legilimens!"

Harry was fairly unprepared for this, and as the world slipped away and his memories came into focus, he knew this wasn't going to end well.

The first memory was relatively harmless. Harry sat in his room in Privet Drive, tending to the welts on his back from where his uncle had beaten him again. It must have been from last summer, because Harry spotted a few light scars on his arms. He pushed the memory away, hoping to open his eyes to the real world. Instead he was in another of his memories.

The memory was full of blood - his blood. He watched in horror as he cut open his own flesh. The Harry in his memories hissed out in pain but still kept cutting. Then Harry started crying softly, shaking with grief, and he knew this had to end.

"Stop," he tried to say, but was unsure whether Snape had heard him.

Harry managed, somehow, to push the memory away. Now Sirius was stretching out one of Harry's badly scarred arms, tears in his eyes. There were countless cuts, most of them still new. Sirius traced his thumb over one of them, but Harry pulled his arm away.

"I don't understand," the Sirius in Harry's memory said.

"Stop!" Harry said again, and this time Snape retreated from his mind. Harry stumbled back, the world coming into focus again. Snape stood staring at him, face pale.

"...That was private!" Harry said, feeling tears stinging his eyes. He would not cry. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Snape looked down at Harry for a couple of seconds, eyes narrowing. "Nothing is private unless you guard yourself properly, Potter," he said.

Harry had to be sure. "How much did you see?"

Snape frowned. "Everything that you saw."

Harry placed his head in his hands, took a deep breath, and then looked up to find Snape starkng at him oddly.

"Is everything all right, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I can go now, right? he asked, itching to get away. He felt so ashamed, so embarrassed. He just wanted to hide away from everything.

"Potter," he said, almost shouting, making Harry jump a little. "Show me your arm."

Harry stumbled back a bit. "No. No," he said, feeling the hot tears in his eyes getting ready to spill over. "You weren't meant to see that." Before Snape had a chance to say anything Harry took a deep breath. "Thank you for the lesson, sir."

"That's not -"

"When will we have the next one?"

Snape blinked a couple of times. "Tomorrow," he said, giving Harry a nervous glance. "Seven."

"All right," Harry said.

"I'll be having a word with Professor McGonagall about ... what I saw."

Harry nodded silently, knowing that speaking would give too much away. He was glad, at least, that Snape seemed more freaked out than worried. Harry didn't know what he would do if anyone else started to feel sorry for him.

He just about managed to walk out through the door before the tears spilled over. He walked slowly down the corridors, which were thankfully mainly empty. He turned the corner, cursing as he saw Draco.

_Perfect,_ he thought, trying to keep his emotions under control, _this is not going to go well at all._

"Potter?" Draco asked, the smile on his face widening. "Why are you crying? If it's about the detention, then I'm sure Weasley really is sorry."

"Oh shut up," he said, barging past him.

"Potter!" Draco called. " Scar-head! Come on, I was only messing! Potter! ...Hey!"

Harry ignored him, and made his way back to the Gryffindor common room alone.

Nobody even looked at him when he entered, which was a relief. Ron and Hermione sat on one of the sofas, their backs to him.

He ran straight to his room, wanting to talk to Sirius. He held the mirror in his hands, Sirius's name stuck on his lips. He needed to talk to someone before he went mad. He felt his composure breaking, and knew it would be a matter of minutes before he would have to cut again. He needed a distraction. He needed something to set his mind on a different course. He needed to talk to Sirius.

But he didn't want to be a pain. Sirius was probably busy. He wouldn't want to be disturbed. Harry placed the mirror back in his trunk and sighed.

He had felt a little better today, he had almost felt happy for a little while, but any progress was completely lost. He rummaged around in his trunk, finally finding what he was looking for.

A piece of glass. But anything sharp would do.

* * *

A/N: sorry for such a long wait again! But this time I have an excuse ^_^ I'm on holiday. And if there are any weird typos you can blame the autocorrect on my ipad.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, favs and follows! I really appreciate them! Thank you so much!

Some of Snape's speech about occlumency is taken from the book and altered slightly. The timeline is also a bit skewed, so sorry :D

I don't own Harry Potter!


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